Chapter 33: The Path of the Mage VI

Chapter 33: 33: The Path of the Mage VI --- Fizz zipped after him with a sulky hum. "Are you sure this is the right way? Because this is giving me that classic ’you’re about to get eaten’ vibe." John tapped the side of his vision. The system didn’t lie. The marker was ahead, maybe an hour walk from their current pace. "We’re close," he said. "And something is... off." Fizz peered around. "Oh yeah. Definitely cursed. You can always tell it’s cursed when the mushrooms start watching you." John glanced down. They were, in fact, surrounded by clusters of red capped mushrooms. At least two dozen. And several of them had sprouted facing the exact trail they were walking. "Creepy," he muttered. Fizz floated low to one. His tiny arms were stretched wide like he was trying to hug a dream he instantly regretted. "Hello, my soft round friends," he whispered, voice dripping with a charm that fooled absolutely no one. "Please do not grow teeth. I like your looks without teeth. Very aesthetic. Very smooth." The nearest mushroom gave a single twitch. Fizz screamed. Not a heroic scream. Not even a mildly brave scream. It was the kind of high pitched screech a nobleman might make when his tea was served at the wrong temperature. With all the speed of a panic powered hummingbird, he blasted into the air like someone had strapped fireworks to his rear end. "Nope nope nope nope!" he shouted, spiraling upward until he nearly disappeared into the tree leaves. John bent over, laughing so hard he had to grab his knees. He almost fell forward into a bush, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "Fizz, they are just mushrooms! You screamed like a little girl." Fizz poked his head out from a branch above like a squirrel in witness protection. "That was not a twitch. That was a pre bite shimmy! Do not gaslight me while I am airborne." John wheezed, still giggling. "You screamed like a kettle possessed by a banshee." "Correction," Fizz said, descending with the dignity of a man who just tripped on invisible stairs, "I tactically retreated to a higher vantage point. You’re welcome, for scouting the trees." John snorted. "You mean the leaves you flew into headfirst?" Fizz folded his arms and glared, his left wing still twitching from the trauma. "Some of us are not born with your voidy nonsense. I do not have to say... but I got some bad memories with mushrooms with teeth." Another mushroom wiggled slightly, maybe from the wind. Fizz immediately yelped again and zipped behind John’s back like a terrified guardian spirit. "New plan. You poke it. I will be back here providing moral support." John, still chuckling, patted the air near Fizz’s head. "You’re such a brave explorer." Fizz raised his chin. "Bravery is not the absence of fear. It is the ability to run from danger while maintaining optimal altitude and sarcastic commentary." John didn’t look back. "Alright, Let’s just get out of here." They pushed on. The rain only thickened, turning into a steady downpour. Water dripped from leaves, pooled around tree roots, and created little rivers along the uneven path. Mud splashed with every step. Then John felt it. The pulse. It wasn’t from the system. It came from the ground. He stopped to look. Fizz hovered above his head. "Don’t like that look on your face. That looks like we are ’about to get stabbed by something slimy’ face." John didn’t speak. He just pointed. Ahead, not far from the base of a moss drenched stone, something was moving. It slithered more than it walked, black and green, low to the ground. Fizz squinted. "That’s not a vine." "No," John said. "That’s our problem." The beast emerged fully from behind the rock. It was a long bodied thing with scales that shimmered like wet oil and eyes the size of small coins. Its jaw split open in four directions, and fangs glistened in the rain. [F-Rank Swamp Fang. Status: Aggressive] Fizz backed up a meter. "Oh cool. You fight it. I’ll write your tale." John drew his dagger. "Fizz." "What?" "If I die, and you don’t help, who will feed you forever? Who will you mess with, pull pranks and sing too? Who will help you be worshiped by millions?" Fizz folded his arms. "Ugh. Fine. You got a strong point. But only if it looks like you’re losing. I want at least three near death moments before I swoop in like a shiny hero and save the day." The beast hissed. John braced his stance, sliding one foot back. Rain dripped from his hood. His dagger gleamed in the weak light. The Swamp Fang lunged. John moved right, but not fast enough. The edge of its tail slammed into his body, knocking him to the mud. Fizz clapped. "That’s one near death moment!" John grunted and rolled, slashing upward. His blade caught the beast’s underbelly. It was barely touched and the creature recoiled, squealing like metal being scraped. It lunged again. John ducked, rolled left, and jabbed toward its neck. This time, he had a clean hit. The dagger sunk in halfway before the beast whipped sideways and flung him off again. Fizz whistled. "Two!" John landed hard, his breath knocked from his lungs. He didn’t wait, he scrambled up, boots slipping in mud, and raised the dagger again. The beast hissed louder. Fizz hovered between them. "Okay okay! That was almost three. I’m in!" He snapped his fingers. A blast of light shot downward, striking the beast’s tail. It screamed and twisted, rearing back just long enough for John to charge. He rammed his shoulder into its side and drove the dagger deep into its eye. With a wet, shuddering cry, the Swamp Fang collapsed. Rain poured harder. John fell to his knees, panting. Fizz landed beside him. "Told you I’d help." John just wheezed and nodded. "Thanks." Fizz leaned over the corpse. "You know, this thing smells like wet socks and spicy regret. But look..." He pointed.